


On The Spectrum

by APocketSizedAce



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Autistic bastion, Canon Autistic Character, Cyborg!Bastion, Fluff, Human Bastion, Mostly nonverbal bastion, Satya allowing herself to act autistic and not feelong ashamed, Satya verbally drop kicking people into next week, Symmetra and Bastion being asd buddies, This is really self indulgent, unlikely friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 08:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9876053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APocketSizedAce/pseuds/APocketSizedAce
Summary: Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani is an observant woman with an eye for detail. People say that's how she accurately diagnosed Bastion. She thought they were simply ignorant. Anyone who'd skimmed through a description of Autism Spectrum Disorder would have figured it out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story features a human Bastion by the way. More specifically a cybernetically enhanced Bastion. Basically a cyborg super soldier. This isn't part of any au it's mainly something really self indulgent I wrote the other day.
> 
> Also please note the autistic behaviour in this story is based off my own and may not be accurate to someone else's. Thanks for reading!

  Satya had little interest in Bastion at first. The cyborg didn’t really interact with anyone so she didn’t see why she should purposely seek out someone who didn’t want to be found. It was completely by accident that their friendship began.

* * *

 

  Symmetra had been taking a walk outside, needing to get away from the noise of the base. Nobody seemed to know how to be _quiet_ around here. Running into Bastion wasn’t part of the plan. They were sitting under an oak tree, smiling and rocking their body back and forth. The familiar motion sent a wave of sad nostalgia through the woman. When she was younger she would do that exact same thing, before she’d trained herself out of the stim.

  Things started to click into place then. Bastion didn’t speak much and when they did it was in broken sentences. She’d seen them cover their ears once. The day they were introduced to Overwatch the entire team exploded into an argument, some for or against their newest teammate. Out of the corner of her eye Satya had noticed the massive cyborg shrink down and clamp their hands over their ears in an attempt to block out the noise.

  She felt a rush of empathy for them. While she was clearly lower on the spectrum than them, she knew how hard it could be to be autistic. Symmetra acted on impulse and let her feet carry her over to the tree. “Hello,” She starts, feeling the awkwardness she always does with casual interactions. “May I sit here?” Cool relief flows through her when they nod and she gracefully sank to the ground.

  The grass is soft underneath her and she runs her hand through it. “This is a nice place, I can see why you like it here,” She comments. “It’s quiet, too. Our teammates can be so boisterous at times.” It’s clearly an opinion they share because Bastion claps their hands once in agreement. She takes this reaction as a cue to continue along that line of thinking. “It can be hard to be around them sometimes. Most of them mean well but occasionally I just wish they would all stop talking.” Bitterness colours Satya’s tone, she got a little carried away.

  “Yes. Too much.” Bastion’s voice is soft in a way that reminds the woman of fresh bread. It is not a voice she expected out of this mountain of a person. The way they speak is just matter of fact. They say what they want to in as few words as possible. Not out of aloofness, but because they felt they didn’t need to say anything more to get their point across. Symmetra is reminded yet again of her when she was younger, before Vishkar and herself trained her into a “normal” child.

The two of them lapse into silence for a few moments before Bastion tugs gently on her arm. When she turns to look at them they point to the sky. A flock of birds are flying overhead, too high up to make out the species. “They’re very lovely.” She smiles, truly smiles, at the simple joy the other finds in this small thing.

* * *

 

  
  “I don’t know what’s wrong with them. They may have developed brain damage from their time in stasis, but I’d need to preform some tests to be sure.” Mercy is talking with Winston as Satya walks past. The two of them must be discussing Bastion. No one else on base uses gender neutral pronouns, and only Mei and them have experienced stasis. The topic of discussion seems to be their abnormal behaviour.

  A bubble of anger forms in her chest that she can’t quite keep her face from expressing. Despite the deeply ingrained lesson that it’s rude to interrupt people, she can’t help but speak her mind. “Bastion is autistic, Dr. Ziegler,” She says, her usual icy tone dropping even more in temperature. “Not brain damaged. It would be good for a woman of your profession to learn the difference.” She takes in the vague shocked looks on the pair’s face before turning on her heel and exiting. If her usual graceful stride is a bit stiffer than usual, nobody she passes mentions it.

* * *

  
  Symmetra is sitting with her friend in the living room. She’s seated in an old, frayed armchair, a book in hand while Bastion is next to her on the floor. They’re chewing on their hand while watching some animated movie that Satya can’t be bothered to pay attention to.

  “Can you stop doing that already! It’s fucking freaky!” Is snarled from the other side of the room. Junkrat is glaring at the cyborg from where he’s perched on the arm of the couch. One of his traps is open on his lap, and he seems to be doing maintenance on it. Satya has never liked the Australian. He’s loud, erratic, filthy and just down right impolite. However she’s done her best to remain somewhat civil with him.

  Yet seeing the way Bastion shrinks back, face flushed red with shame, she finds herself fed up with this sentient trash pile. She snaps her novel shut, the noise drawing the attention of everyone in the room. She meets Junkrat’s eyes, venom in her gaze. “Mr Fawkes,” She says, her tone biting. “I don’t believe a man who named himself after a _rodent_ is in any place to complain about someone else’s strange behaviour.” She allows her face to slip from the neutral mask into cold distain.

  She lays a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder but doesn’t break eye contact with the Australian. There’s petty satisfaction in her chest when Jamison snarls and stalks out of the room. She opens her book again, flipping through pages until she finds where she left off.

Part of her wishes that trap had closed on him.

* * *

 

  
  Ganymede perched atop her finger and chirped out a brief song. She stroked the bird’s head with a finger, the small feathers under her touch had a strange texture.

  Satya and Bastion have fallen into a pattern. They’ve learned the signs of the other getting overwhelmed and know when they need to remove their friend from a situation. Then they two of them will retreat to one of their rooms until they feel ready to face the world again.

  Symmetra appreciates the push to leave an area if she can’t function well in it. She always felt weak when she can’t handle “a little bit of noise”, as if she were being tested on her ability to appear neurotypical and ending up failing. It’s... nice, to be reminded she isn’t like everyone else and that she shouldn’t hold herself to the standards of an allistic person.

  Like today when Bastion gently tugged on her hand after she’d frozen in place. They’re in the cyborg’s room this time, and they’re letting her rearrange their potted plants in a way she likes even though she knows they’ll put it back to the way they prefer it when she leaves. It warms her to know they’ll let her mess up their routine to help her feel like she’s in control of her body again.

  The hulking person is wrapped in their weighted blanket, and is drawing shapes in the carpet. Satya lets go of the pots, satisfied with the order and turns to the bag sitting between the two of them. It’s got a collection of stim toys inside, at least the ones they share. The chewy jewellery, like her bracelet and Bastion’s flower necklace, isn’t exactly swappable. But there are rings that spin, putty for pulling and squeezing, things that click and an assortment of other things.

  She pulls out a clicking bracelet and holds it next to her ear. The repetitive sound soothes her agitated senses and she breathes a sigh of relief. She would never have done this before, being so open about things people considered _freakish_ , as Junkrat put it. But having someone who understood, who she could talk to about stims and all the weird things neurotypical people did is a relief.

  Satya had spent so long being told to shove her autistic traits down as far as they could go for the sake of others comfort. It’s nice to let the neurotypical mask drop and to be herself for once without fear of judgment. 


End file.
